


Michelle

by themissinggenius



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themissinggenius/pseuds/themissinggenius
Summary: Just a short one-shot about a newly discovered mutual interest between Clarice and the Good Doctor. Post-Hannibal (1999).
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Michelle

They were nearing a year - a year of freedom, a year of companionship, a year of newfound knowledge for both - the evening they sat on the balcony of their renovated seaside longère in Cancale.

A book was perched between Dr. Lecter’s fingers, and his wife’s was left abandoned, face-down on the table, as she peered off towards la baie du Mont Saint Miche. It seemed as though everything in this quiet town was holy: it was the birthplace of Saint Jeanne Jugan, a noble servant to the true disadvantaged, and there were few places that had not seen her plight nor her crook.

But the significance of their residency there did not seem to entertain Starling at that moment; as her husband observed her, her softened eyes touched the shoreline and settled on the blue waters below. He watched her slow breathing and the quiet smile that tugged at her lips. His book not nearly as interesting as the sight of her transfixed, he lowered it to his lap and continued staring as his tongue unconsciously darted to his upper lip. If she noticed his gaze, she did not let on. Instead, her pupils danced on rhythmic crashing of the waves, and she began to hum.

It was almost imperceptible. She only hummed at first but clearly could not help the whispered words that followed. The corners of Starling’s mouth quickly upturned, and he could pick up the lyrics:

“Michelle, ma belle... These are words that go together well, my Michelle.”

Clarice almost jumped, as if she had forgotten the doctors’ presence, when she heard him reply:

“Michelle, ma belle. Son les mots qui vont très bien ensemble, très bien ensemble.”

Though pulled out of her musings, the look of utter content did not vacate the woman’s face. She looked questioningly at him before prodding.

“I never pegged you as a Beatles fan.”

“I wouldn’t, either.”

“You wouldn’t have sung like that if you don’t like the song.”

“Have you considered that maybe I just like you and wanted to sing along?”

“No,” she paused, considering. Pursing her lips, then, “And the timeline matches well. Hannibal Lecter, you were a Beatlemaniac, weren’t you?”

“Hardly.”

“But you were a fan?”

“Yes.” He started to continue, but she was already gone.

That was all Starling needed to hear. She had been subjected to hours of classical and opera music in the past year, and it wasn’t often that she found the opportunity to listen to the songs of her old life with him, as much as she might have wanted. (Hannibal found Led Zeppelin to be an assault on the senses, Pink Floyd to be relentlessly depressing, and 80s hair bands akin to hot garbage... Well, Clarice couldn’t argue him on that last one). With runner’s grace and childlike eagerness, she bounded in through the glass door, scooped up her keys and purse, and ran out to the garage. Lecter could hear her yell as she ran: “Thanks for the idea! I’ll be right back.” Rather than pursue, he remained seated. He had an inkling of what his wife would do and buy, and he would hardly fight her on it. It’d been too long since he’d heard Rubber Soul, anyway.

It was less than a half an hour before Starling returned from the Cin et Music in Saint-Malo, the desired disc clutched to her chest. They had traded vinyl for CDs in their last move for the ease of travel, and Clarice was eager to eject Gossec (a recent acquisition of Lecter’s) for the Fab Four.

Hannibal had moved to the drawing room when he heard her enter their home, and now they sat together as the music began to play. Forever impatient, the woman quickly tapped the “skip” button six times so that the gentle string plucking came out over the speakers. We hear once again:

“Michelle, ma belle,  
These are words that go together well,  
My Michelle.  
Michelle, ma belle,  
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble -  
Tres bien ensemble.  
I love you, I love you, I love you...  
That's all I want to say  
Until I find a way  
I will say the only words I know that you'll understand.”

Now it is both Lecter’s voice and Starling’s that project about the room. They do not dance the first time it is played; rather, Clarice sits and revels in hearing her husband sing as he stares back at her - looking at her but clearly channeling long-hidden emotion from within. They sit there for the remainder of the album, unmoving except for their caressing intertwined fingers that rest on the couch.

By the time Michelle rings out once again, the couple is up and swaying back and forth to the sounds. Clarice’s whispered French rivals Hannibal’s own, and it is with admiration, surprise, and - most certainly - love, that he observes his dear Starling fall back into her happy reverie.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It’s been awhile since I’ve written, but I’ve been listening to the Beatles a lot lately and couldn’t help myself. Also, I’d highly recommend reading more about the town of Cancale that I stumbled upon; Saint Jeanne Jugan’s story parallels Clarice’s beautifully. Perhaps we’re in for some more oneshots soon... Let me know what you think.


End file.
